


What Lies Beneath

by SiwgrGalon



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, Insecurities, M/M, Post-Canon, Religious Guilt, Romance, Supportive Relationship, and probably at writing in this case, boys buying underwear, mcpriceley, possibly plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 13:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11601909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiwgrGalon/pseuds/SiwgrGalon
Summary: Connor and Kevin go underwear shopping. Insecurities come to light, there's a fair bit of flirting, and in the end they ditch the garments for good.‘What I mean is… how do you find, I don’t know, astyle? Like, how do you know what suits you, and how it fits, and whether it’s comfortable and all?’Another hum, as Connor rearranges himself so he is lying flat on his belly on the sofa. Kevin uses the opportunity to turn on his back and stretch a little.Once the redhead gets comfortable he leans over, peering into Kevin’s face.‘I don’t know,’ he says, sounding a little thoughtful.‘I guess you just go by what you wore before you got your garments when it comes to cuts and all. And the size is just the same as your jeans, pretty much.’'See, that's kinda the issue.'





	What Lies Beneath

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by someone (on tumblr, I think) saying 'Imagine McPriceley shopping for underwear post-Uganda'. It's one of a number of different scenarios I could think up and it got a little out of hand. 
> 
> Please don't shoot me.

‘How _do_ you find nice underwear?’ 

Kevin looks up from where he is lying on their living room floor, his course material spread out in front of him. Across from him, Connor is draped upside down on the sofa, his legs resting on the backrest while his head is hanging over the edge, learning his lines. 

How he does that without getting dizzy or a splitting headache, Kevin really doesn’t know. 

The question, though, so innocent and insecure and yet full of implication, makes Connor place the script on his stomach to look at his boyfriend. 

They really ought to finally buy a coffee table, after nearly a year in this apartment. Then again, this… this is good. Comfortable and familiar, and it leaves a surprising amount of space available for just about any use. Including Connor draping himself over their sofa like a ginger-haired bat and Kevin being able to look at him unobstructedly.

‘Hm?’

A second’s pause, until everything catches up with Connor.

‘You go into a shop, I dare say,’ he says, amusement tinging his voice. 

‘Or buy it online, I guess.’ 

Kevin rolls his eyes and reaches forward to flick Connor’s shoulder. 

‘Gee, thanks, smartypants,’ he says as he does so, earning himself an indignant squeak from his former District Leader. 

‘Stupid questions deserve stupid answers!’

‘What happened to Connor “Don’t worry Elders, there is no such thing as a stupid question” McKinley?’

This time, Connor just hums a little noncommittally.

‘He… took a leave of absence. Together with “I am so straight, look at how straight I am, I am very straight” Connor.’ 

Kevin scoffs and flicks him again, much gentler this time.

‘I don’t miss that one,’ he says, before pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead and flopping down again. 

‘What I mean is… how do you find, I don’t know, a _style_? Like, how do you know what suits you, and how it fits, and whether it’s comfortable and all?’ 

Another hum, as Connor rearranges himself so he is lying flat on his belly on the sofa. Kevin uses the opportunity to turn on his back and stretch a little. 

Once the redhead gets comfortable he leans over, peering into Kevin’s face. 

‘I don’t know,’ he says, sounding a little thoughtful. 

‘I guess you just go by what you wore before you got your garments when it comes to cuts and all. And the size is just the same as your jeans, pretty much.’ 

‘Uhm…’ 

That’s where it gets tricky. Kevin feels the blush shooting into his face and blossoming down his neck. Going by the way they’re heating up, even his ears seem to be burning. 

‘See, that’s kinda the issue.’ 

‘What is?’ 

Connor looks genuinely confused, his brows kitting together so a little valley forms between them, blending into the bridge of his nose. It always makes him look so young, Kevin thinks, letting his mind drift for just a second before focusing back on the conversation.

‘I’ve only ever worn things which were at least cut like garments,’ he says. 

‘Like, long and loose and all. And then I got rehearsal garments, as my parents called them, way earlier. Didn’t you?’ 

‘Not quite. My parents very much believe in the Mormon timetable, so to say,’ Connor says. 

‘I mean, if I would have had to, I’m pretty sure my dad would have banned me from dancing the moment my school and, uhm, growing anatomy forced me into proper dance belts.’ 

That gets a laugh out of Kevin. He remembers the first time he saw Connor in a dance belt. That really had been a little shock at first. Most precisely, the lack of fabric had been. But the other man had been so unfazed that it prompted Kevin to calm down very quickly. 

‘Going by what you told me he possibly would have, yes,’ he replies. 

A comfortable silence falls, the two young men letting their thoughts wander until Connor pipes up. 

‘We could go underwear shopping, though,’ he says, and he sounds a little careful. As if he is testing the water. 

‘If you want to, and are comfortable with that, that is. If you want to continue wearing garments that’s fine, of course, I won’t judge, but if I’m honest… they’re more a convenience thing for me. I’ve just been a bit… hesitant, because I didn’t know where you stand on this.’

It’s funny to Kevin - after all, it was him who brought the topic up, so theoretically there is no reason for Connor to be unsure. And it’s not like they are innocent virgins. Not anymore.

Garments might be unsexy, but that really didn’t keep them from anything. Not for long.

And Kevin certainly never gave any indication garments were anything more than a convenience for him, either. But he still thinks Connor’s consideration of him maybe wearing them for more than purely practical reasons is incredibly sweet. 

But that’s just typical, Kevin muses. While they were off to a rocky start, getting closer to Connor meant looking beyond Elder McKinley of the first three mission days. 

What he discovered was seriously worth it, and moments like this one always served as an extra reminder of that. 

Something about shopping for underwear together is different, though. The longer Kevin thinks about it the naughtier it feels. At the same time, the prospect is also very, very exciting, in that pleasurable flutter-in-your-belly way. 

‘But maybe we should go separately,’ Connor continues his musings. 

‘Just so nobody gets accidentally forced into anything they don’t want or are uncomfortable with, you know?’ 

Somehow, Kevin gets the idea this might not be about himself at all, and fully about Connor. The former missionary can’t put his finger on it, but something about his partner is off; he looks a little hesitant and has started stroking his shoulder blade while speaking. 

Instead of saying something Kevin reaches up and taps Connor’s nose, resulting in a little smile spreading over the other man’s face. 

They still end up going together. 

And while it is a little sexy, in a strange new way, and a bit weird at first, it is also a lot of fun and far more normal than Kevin anticipated. 

Except for the intermittent tension in Connor’s body. He seems unsure, as if he his holding back, and his mood is very obviously a little subdued. He also picks things Kevin would not have billed him for, which at first appeared just a little curious. 

But the longer Kevin thinks about it and looks at Connor’s little collection of mostly very bland, very wide boxer shorts, the more suspicious he gets. 

Kevin lets it go far too far for his taste before, in a quiet corner, he carefully slings his arm around the redhead’s waist and draws him into his side. Connor follows the prompt willingly, their hips bumping together as their bodies meet. Kevin doesn’t let go.

‘What’s bothering you?’

The young man keeps his voice quiet and without accusation. Connor tenses up once more, though, and averts his eyes. 

‘Are you alright, Con?’

A silent nod. Then, a deep inhale. 

‘It’s nothing, it’s super stupid… just ignore me.’

‘No.’

Kevin takes a tiny step to the side, just to turn and end up standing in front of his boyfriend. He loosens his arm in the process, opting to take both of Connor’s hands instead. 

‘I’m not ignoring you, Connor, because something is off,’ he says. 

‘And I want you to enjoy this.’

He is met with more silence, and while he raises his head a bit Connor still doesn’t quite look at him. 

Kevin gives him a minute. When the other man doesn’t react, he keeps digging. He remains careful and on guard, but he feels like pushing a little is the only way to get Connor to speak. 

‘Enjoying it might be a bit hard right now, so… I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, at least,’ he continues, keeping a watchful eye on Connor’s face. 

‘And, you know, I might be reading you wrong here, but I’d love to see you pick things you actually like. Unless I’ve gotten the wrong impression and this is what you want, then that’s of course fine. 

‘But going by everything I know about you, and please remember I have seen you naked, you don’t… seem like that kind of guy.’ 

That does get a reaction out of Connor, as he looks up, confusion written all over his face. 

‘…Is it that obvious?’ 

Kevin just nods, making sure to smile and keep everything as light as possible. No need to make Connor feel worse than he obviously is. 

‘Kinda, yeah. I didn’t have you down as the type for very wide, very non-colored boxer shorts.

‘I mean… even I wouldn’t go for those colors, and my fashion sense is definitely more boring than yours most of the time.’ 

Confusion gives way to a faint blush, just coloring Connor’s cheeks. The redhead loosens their hands to cover his face.

If it weren’t paired with a faint laugh, even if it is a notably insecure sound, Kevin would be seriously worried. But given the situation he takes half a step closer, wrapping his fingers around Connor’s wrists to gently pry his hands away. 

‘Hey, it’s okay,’ he says and leans in to press a kiss to Connor’s cheek. 

‘But honey, you should’ve said if this makes you uncomfortable.’

Despite the tense situation the redhead visibly delights in the rarely used pet name and the PDA for a second or two, before going back to his found out state. At the same time, Kevin mentally makes a note to remind himself that cheek kisses are very well received and he should give them out more often. 

‘You got me sussed out,’ Connor says, and Kevin just smirks. 

‘I do, don’t I? Wanna tell me the reason, though?’ 

It should be illegal for Connor to chew his lower lip like that, all thoughtful and a little unsure. As if reading Kevin’s slowly wandering thoughts he suddenly stops, before starting to speak. 

‘Well. It’s… so stupid, honestly,’ he says.

‘But they’re _appropriate_ , aren’t they? Or rather, maybe what I want is not. And… don’t get me wrong, but I’m so afraid of you judging me, or ridiculing me, or, or… I don’t know, thinking I’m a slut or something.’ 

Suppressing a laughter, Kevin just raises an eyebrow and makes an effort to keep his gaze level. It doesn’t fully stop the corners of his mouth from creeping upwards. When Connor notices his brows knit together, but Kevin reaches up and smooths the crease out with his fingers. 

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he says. 

‘I’m not laughing at you. It’s… a sign of endearment. Because Connor, I love you, and I could never think of you as, or call you, a slut. 

‘Unless you want me to. But not in public, I’ll rule that one out. And even then, that - or your choice in underwear - would not lower my esteem for you. 

‘Or would me continuing to wear garments make you think less of me?’ 

Connor just shakes his head, his eyes wide and disbelieving. 

‘No, why would it?’ 

‘Exactly.’

‘But… wait. Do you want to continue wearing garments? Oh my gosh, Kevin, if I have pressured you into something…’

He doesn’t finish the sentence because Kevin’s lips make speaking impossible. 

It’s brief and chaste, and Kevin murmurs ‘Shut up’ just before they separate. 

‘You did not, don’t worry,’ he says. 

‘But I’ve got the feeling it’d be better if I make a strategic exit and leave you to look at things without worrying about me.’ 

‘Uhm… would you? Like, not to sound excited, but… .’ 

‘Of course,’ Kevin says, and he means it. He’d go to the moon if it was what it takes to get Connor comfortable in his own skin.

‘Just… come find me at Starbucks, okay? Take your time, buy the things you want, and I’ll amuse myself in the meantime. And I promise I will not judge you, whatever you pick. Even if it’s the stuff you picked earlier.’ 

‘So gold foil thongs are go?’ 

‘Okay, for that I would judge you. Because that’s just tacky, and not even you can pull it off.’ 

‘Try me.’

Connor sticks out his tongue, and they both dissolve into quiet giggles. Just like that, the tension starts to seep out. In his slowly changing body language, Kevin sees Connor’s confidence return bit by bit, wheezing giggle by wheezing giggle. 

He can’t resist his urge to hug the redhead. 

‘Just make sure you pick cute ones,’ Kevin says when letting go of Connor. 

‘Whatever you think is cute. Not what you think I think is cute.’

With another quick kiss to a pale cheek, Kevin makes his way to pay before seeking out the nearest Starbucks. 

He amuses himself by playing with his phone and texting to and fro with Arnold but, in the end, settles for daydreaming. It starts as nothing, in particular, just random glimpses of familiar faces - Connor, of course, and Arnold and Naba, and all their mission brothers - before morphing into distinct scenes. 

Playing football with Ghali and some of the younger boys, and woefully losing against them. Digging wells, fixing their hut’s roof - with a very sunburnt Connor looking very proud of himself indeed - and having dinner with everyone sitting around mismatching tables on their last day. 

Counting the freckles on Connor’s arms together with Kimbay and the village’s kids, and everyone being allowed to make a wish on one. 

The plane ride home. Playing cards and noughts and crosses and plenty of other games with Arnold, while Naba, Connor, and Poptarts had slept curled up against each other. 

Coming out to his parents… that is still a weird one to remember. His wish coming true when they didn’t abandon him, but instead enquired after ‘that boyfriend of yours’. 

That freckle really did its work. 

He ought to wish on a new one.

Fittingly enough, Connor interrupts him just as Kevin thinks back to the first night in their apartment. 

He flops into the armchair next to Kevin with a little sigh, dropping his bag - or is that plural? - while stretching out his legs and cradling a paper cup. 

‘Shopped ’til you dropped?’ 

‘Mhhh, maybe,’ Connor says, ever the enigma. 

‘Plus a bit of realizing that I’m really sore and exhausted from classes and rehearsals and the performances this week. And feeling like an idiot for earlier.’

‘You’re not an idiot.’ 

‘Well, I felt like one, given that I’m supposedly the one of our friendship group - and our relationship, I guess - who’s super confident in his body and dropped the faith like nothing, and all that.’ 

‘That’s what others may think,’ Kevin says, reaching out to put a hand on Connor’s knee. 

‘But you forget that I know you a bit better than that. About the niggles and insecurities, and I grew up in the same faith. I don’t think you’re an idiot. In fact, I think it’s very understandable.’ 

He loves how they can be so openly intimate in public, even as a same-sex couple, and feel mostly safe. Of course, there are areas and times when Kevin would hesitate to show his affection for Connor like this, of laying their relationship bare for all the world to see, but this is not it. 

‘And I won’t tell anyone, promise.’ 

Connor rolls his eyes and laughs, silently. He leans back and just looks at Kevin, his face open and far less insecure than earlier. 

‘Miss me, then?’ 

‘I always miss you,’ Kevin replies, and it’s one of the most sincere things he has ever said in his life. Come to think of it, a lot of those are either directed at his parents or Connor. And Arnold, of course. 

The knowledge makes his heart swell. It’s a good feeling. It feels right. 

Even more so when Kevin sees Connor’s smile soften in response. 

‘Bought anything nice, then?’ 

‘Plenty. And a pair of new jeans, I’ll have you know.’

‘Oooh, nice, can I see?’ 

Taking a careful sip the other man smirks and slowly shakes his head. 

‘Nope,’ he says. A second later, though, Connor starts digging before handing a very small bag over to Kevin. 

‘This one, maybe, just because I can’t wait to see your face.’

The young man inspects the bag before carefully peeking inside. He can’t quite make out what it is, beyond a lot of black fabric. When he slowly takes it out, Connor takes an audible breath. 

‘You might want to keep it quite low in your lap,’ he says quietly.

‘Unless you want to embarrass me into never actually wearing it.’ 

Now that’s curious. Kevin looks at his partner, who’s started to fidget in his seat, and just raises an eyebrow. While he certainly has a nervous, if not to say anxious, disposition at times, it has been a long time since Connor actively fidgeted like this. 

Kevin is tempted to draw it out but soon takes mercy on his boyfriend. 

Until he untangles the thing in his lap and finds himself confronted with a lot of straps and not all that much fabric. 

‘What is… is that…?’ 

Next to him Connor just nods, slowly, never taking his eyes off Kevin. 

‘If the word you want to say starts with a J and ends with ockstrap then yep, it is. 

‘And I can’t believe I just did and said any of that in public,’ he says, disbelief coloring his voice. It quickly turns just a tiny bit smug. 

‘But your face was good.’ 

Kevin is still stunned, turning the piece of clothing - can you call it that, given that there’s so little of it? - over and over and inspecting all the different straps. 

‘But… how do you wear this? I mean, how do you know where what goes, and how to put it on?’ 

Daintily plucking the jockstrap out of Kevin’s hands Connor shoots him an outrageously flirty look. 

‘I’ll show you sometime,’ he says, his cheeks colored by a healthy blush. He hides a cheeky smile behind his cup as he bumps Kevin’s foot with his. 

‘When we’ve got time and are alone, away from any prying eyes.’

The obvious implication makes heat coil in Kevin’s belly. His brain conjures up images which are familiar and foreign at the same time, but all the more exciting. 

Until he wills them down, for the moment. There are a time and place for this, and ‘in public’ is not it.

‘So first you tease me, and then you sink back and hide behind your tea?’ 

‘Hot chocolate.’ 

‘Oooh, indulgent, hm?’ 

‘I earned it.’

Paired with a raised eyebrow and the sassy flick of a head, that’s all it takes for Kevin to fall in love all over again.

‘I never doubted that.’

They share a smile like a secret. Kevin pats Connor’s knee and, in an unspoken agreement, they both get up. 

‘Let’s head home,’ Kevin says and okay, he might sound a bit more urgent than usual. 

When he receives an amused little hum in return he grasps Connor’s hand, linking their fingers. 

’Don’t make me sound dirty,’ he says, nudging the redhead with his hip. 

‘It’s only a reflection of your own mind.’ 

Connor’s quiet chuckle is infectious and by the time they’re out on the street, the couple are laughing out loud. 

They don’t stop until they’re home, and Kevin finally gets to kiss Connor far deeper than would be appropriate in public. 

////////////////////////////////

 

They don’t get to do much over the next six days. The Sunday following their shopping adventure is spent lounging around their apartment, interrupted only by the couple doing some chores around the house. Laundry. General cleaning. Napping together on the sofa, Kevin’s head in Connor’s lap and Connor’s hands running through his hair. 

Kevin would have worn everything immediately, but Connor insists on washing all new stuff, especially underwear, before letting it anywhere near his skin - he is quite sensitive, Kevin reminds himself - and so he just rolls with it. From the glimpses Kevin gets his boyfriend definitely picked at least some colorful stuff; it stands in stark contrast to his own choice - a wide mix of all sorts of cuts, in mostly black, gray or checkered.

So he waited until the next day to throw himself head first into a whole new world, free of temple garments but filled with plenty of other options. 

Connor, weirdly enough, had been more hesitant it seemed. Kevin isn’t really sure whether he’s still wearing garments or not. The other man has been rather elusive these past days. Or rather exhausted - Kevin had seen more of Connor sleeping than awake. He knows the other man has experimented with ditching the garments, but the full extent he still isn’t sure about. 

The first time he gets a proper look, so to say, is days later on Friday evening. 

Their final week of college before the end of their first year has kept them well busy. The last classes and exams, and saying goodbye to newfound friends for the summer, took their toll. 

Over the past days they were so busy it feels as if they barely saw each other - at least not while they were awake. 

But not today. Today everything is over; the end of college is the beginning of a glorious summer spent in the Big Apple. 

And Kevin intends to make the most of it. Starting tonight. 

As soon as he steps into their apartment he is welcomed by the smell of dinner and faint music Kevin doesn’t recognize from the kitchen. 

He stops in the doorway and finds Connor, lost to the world as he intently looks at his laptop in deep concentration. Kevin fondly watches him for a bit before knocking on the frame to announce his arrival. 

‘Honey, I’m home,’ he proclaims, for good measure, and after a second’s delay, it’s met with the most brilliant smile. It practically lights up Connor’s face, and Kevin just has to smile back. 

‘What’s got you so fascinated?’ 

With that, he sidles up to Connor slowly enough for the other man to hide anything potentially compromising. 

‘I may have, uh, acquired a recording of the Royal Ballet.’

Kevin just raises his eyebrow. Never let it be said that Connor McKinley is not resourceful. 

‘So now you’re basically swooning over hot dancers,’ Kevin teases. He lets his hand rest on Connor’s shoulders, his fingers starting to gently rub the muscle underneath, and looks at the screen. 

True enough, there is a lot of twirling and leaping and lifting going on, and the redhead is back to being absolutely transfixed. 

As much as he wants to, Kevin can’t fully push down the unwanted feelings of inadequacy and jealousy. 

Because there’s no way he’ll ever be able to compete. Kevin may be athletic, yes, but he’ll never have the bodies these dancers have. Or be as graceful and elegant, for that matter.

Not to mention he knows how much Connor loves ballet, while Kevin had very little contact with it. 

And yes, okay, those dancers are quite hot. Heck, Kevin should know - he’s got one of them in his bed every night. Although Connor is more on the lean side, instead of being one of the eight pack-carrying muscle machines these guys seem to be. 

‘No, not really,’ the redhead says, pausing the video and peeking up at the other man. 

‘Well, okay, maybe a little. But mainly it’s about the art. I mean… the lifts are so impressive. The guy who’s Frankenstein’s creature had to learn how to be lifted because it’s not something you’re normally taught as a male dancer.’

Kevin just hums, trying to make it sound nonchalant when in reality, he really is anything but. 

That’s when the other man turns around, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

‘Are you jealous, Kevin?’ 

There’s no malice in his voice, nothing beyond a gentle teasing. 

Kevin’s instinct is to recoil, to deny everything, still. But chances are Connor would see right through him. Not to mention he still keeps with the Mormon ‘no lying’ principle. They both do. 

‘A little, maybe, because I’ll never have that body or skill or anything,’ he admits, noting how Connor’s face softens. 

‘But, you know, the more upsetting thing is how I’ve been home for more than seven minutes and not had a welcome kiss yet.’

Connor is up in a flash, stepping well into Kevin’s personal space. With a cheeky smile, he slings his arms around Kevin’s neck and rectifies the situation, while the other man’s hands land on his hips. 

‘Naw, I’m sorry I was… distracted,’ Connor says, airily, when they break apart. He bends his head to rest his forehead on Kevin’s collarbone, Connor's chuckles rocking the both of them. 

‘But if it calms your nerves - you don’t have to worry about me running off with a dashing ballet dancer. I wouldn’t want to, anyways, because I’ve got you. 

‘And on a completely different note - I made dinner.’ 

He steps back and gestures towards the oven, where Kevin can make out their lasagna dish bubbling away. 

‘From scratch,’ Connor continues. Kevin is amused by how pleased he sounds.

‘So, you know, we can actually eat something proper before heading out again.’

‘Hmmm, you spoil me,’ Kevin says, leaning against the counter to watch Connor as he tidies his laptop away and packs everything up. That’s when he realizes the redhead’s wearing a pair of jeans Kevin can’t recall ever seeing. 

‘Also, are those your new jeans?’ 

‘Hmhhh… like them?’ 

Without giving Kevin a chance to answer Connor carries his stuff into their living room. He seems to put an extra sashay into his steps, too. 

Kevin watches his every move. He definitely enjoys the view and can’t keep himself from downright staring. They’re black and definitely classified as skinny. Not too tight, though, more a classic cut, but they ride lower than normal on Connor’s hips and nicely accentuate his long legs, too.

‘They make your butt look fantastic,’ Kevin blurts out when the redhead steps back into the room. 

‘And, you know, they just generally look really good on you, but that’s somehow what my mind picked up on just now.’ 

‘Thank you,’ comes the prim reply as Connor busies himself with getting everything ready for dinner. 

Does Kevin imagine it or does he look a bit flustered by the compliment? Some of his movements look slightly stiffer than usual, too. They’re telling of all the hard work Connor put in over the last weeks, of the countless hours he spent in dance studios and rehearsal spaces instead of Kevin’s company. 

‘Right. You, sit down,’ the former missionary orders. He gently puts his hand on Connor’s shoulders, directing him to where he had sat earlier. With a last twist, the redhead snatches the salad bowl from the kitchen counter to take it with him. 

‘You’ve done enough for today, by far, and we’ve still got plans, so let me do the rest.’ 

Pressing a kiss to Connor’s cheek, Kevin starts setting the table. It’s only fair, given his boyfriend is providing the food; for a second Kevin feels bad, too, because he knows Connor has been sore and, as a result, a bit grumpy and off-kilter for the better part of the week. 

It’s good to see him more relaxed and cheerful. 

‘How was that free physio session, by the way?’ 

Across from him Connor squints a little, as if deep in thought, and fishes a tomato out of the bowl. Kevin playfully swats his fingers away. It earns him an elegantly arched eyebrow and the other man raising his hands in defeat while he chews. 

‘Really good, actually,’ Connor says, after a moment’s consideration. 

‘I got a sports massage and man, the woman was tiny, but that massage hurt. She got all the tight spots… and I feel so warped for saying this, but after about 10 minutes, it started to turn into that really good pain. In a non-kinky way, before you get ideas.’

The mere thought makes Kevin shudder. He hates most massages, with a passion - unless they’re administered by the man in front of him. Those tend to happen in a slightly different setting than usual, though, and Connor knows which spots to hit and which to avoid.

‘That sounds… unpleasant.’ 

‘Yeah, it kinda was, until it wasn’t,’ Connor muses. 

‘But, you know, I’m relaxed, all my usual joints are back to cracking as they should and I had a really, really good nap on the sofa when I came home.’ 

‘Well, look at that, you had time to nap,’ Kevin teases. 

Connor’s affirmative nod, accompanied by a quiet hum, is interrupted by his phone beeping. 

Before he can say anything in terms of orders Kevin has already opened the oven. Seconds later, the dish - still quietly bubbling - sits on the table between them. 

‘I half thought you’d opt for a candle instead of a steaming lasagna,’ Connor jokes. 

‘Then again, I’d be all yours without any wooing at all and still be the happiest person on earth.’

Kevin just fondly rolls his eyes and gently pokes Connor’s foot with his own. 

He’s got a way with words, an easy talent of stroking Kevin’s ego just right without mocking him. Because Kevin knows the other man is being 100% sincere; it’s in the timbre of his voice, in the way his eyes soften and sparkle. The declaration makes Kevin’s heart skip a beat, still, no matter how often they say or - or don’t say - ‘I love you’ in all its forms. 

McKinley chuckles, retaliating by teasingly stroking his foot up his partner’s leg. 

‘We have no time for that,’ Kevin admonishes, keeping the tone as light as it was before. 

Feigning innocence Connor shrugs before filling both their plates.

Hungry silence falls as they quietly enjoy their food. It’s even better than anticipated - deep and rich and full of flavor. Even if the pasta might be a little too soft for Kevin’s liking, everything about this is still perfect. Part of it is, of course, down to the company. But then there is also the knowledge that, at least for the next week, they have no obligations, or not many, and that Kevin can finally sleep in. 

Sleep is such a valuable commodity, especially if you get comparatively little of it. Kevin feels like the past week, or weeks even, was all the proof he needed that their mission curfew of 10pm was one of the best things ever. 

He is woken from his musings by Connor, who is slowly wriggling his fingers in Kevin’s face and an amused little smile playing around his lips. 

‘I hate to make you abandon La La Land, sweetie’ he says. 

‘But, to echo your words, we have not much time for this.’ 

Good-naturedly rolling his eyes Kevin nods in agreement, and they make to clear the table. 

‘Are you taking class tomorrow?’ 

‘Absolutely not,’ Connor says. 

‘I was told in no uncertain terms that I should let my body rest for a few days, and I’ll heed that because I’m teaching next weekend and I have a really exciting masterclass on Thursday… so I was planning on sleeping in, mainly because I assume that’s what you’ll be doing.’ 

‘You are assuming right,’ Kevin says, bumping their hips together in passing. 

‘And you just gave me a whole host of ideas of what I want to do with you and all that time.’ 

Connor’s eyes betray that he picked up on the implication while the rest of his face remains as innocent as ever. 

‘Oh, I love to cuddle, it’ll help so much with the soreness,’ he says saucily, revealing his innocence to be nothing more than an act. 

‘Who knows, I might even let you be the little spoon.’

Whatever he says next, if anything, is lost as something else entirely captures Kevin’s attention: as Connor stretches, his arms reaching above his head, his shirt rides up. 

And Kevin finds himself transfixed by a strip of smooth, white skin suddenly becoming visible before something else, something new, catches his eye. 

‘Hang on a second,’ he interjects, staring at the rainbow waistband peeking out from underneath the other man’s jeans. A few days ago they would certainly have not ridden that low, and they certainly would not have revealed any underwear. At least none that wasn’t garments. 

‘What’s that?’ 

Before Connor can answer Kevin realizes he is essentially staring at the other man’s crotch. Intently so. He hurriedly looks up and immediately catches the blush coloring McKinely’s face as he downright hastily straightens back up and pulls down his shirt for good measure. 

‘Nothing!’ 

The rebuttal is quick and slightly squeaky, saying more than a single word ever could. Connor’s expression has changed, too, from smug innocence to wide-eyed surprise and, somehow, insecurity. It’s endearing, really. 

‘We… should get dressed, we gotta leave soon.’ 

With that he turns to make for the bedroom and Kevin can’t help the chuckle. His boyfriend’s ears are just a little red at the tips. 

‘What about the dishes?’ 

Connor turns around, still decidedly flustered, and waves his hand in a gesture that’s clearly meant to look nonchalant. 

‘Leave ‘em,’ he says. It is followed by a rather coy look and the notion that really, they ought to get ready while they still have plenty of time. Kevin smiles in response, prompting Connor to whip around on one foot and complete his way. 

The other follows slowly, trying to decide what to do next. He really doesn’t want to rush the other man, or make him feel like he’s being judged. It’s surprisingly hard to fully let go of habits, especially one as significant to their former faith. 

On the other hand Price is also very curious. What he saw really wet his appetite, even if it was just a teasing glimpse. 

His deliberations end with Kevin once more stopping to stand in the doorframe. Only this time he’s watching Connor as he stands in front of the mirror and just looks at himself for a second. 

Kevin isn’t sure whether he has been noticed, until the redhead speaks up. 

‘Before you ask again… I can’t really wear garments under these, can I now?’ 

With that, he dives into their wardrobe just as Kevin makes his way over. He picks out a simple blue shirt and a dark pair of trousers and sits on the bed for now, watching Connor as he tries to pick out something to wear.

‘Well, you _could_ , I guess.’

Connor throws him a look over his shoulder. 

‘Really? That’d look like I’m wearing diapers.’ 

‘If anybody on this planet would make it work, it’d be you.’

Connor just scoffs but in his reflection, Kevin can see a blush blossoming once more. It only intensifies when Connor, seemingly having settled on what to wear, takes off his tee and once more looks at himself.

Bingo, Kevin thinks when he sees the rainbow again. It is cute.

‘Can you not stare,’ Connor mumbles, before hiding his head in his hands. 

‘This is so awkward, ugh.’

Like drawn by an invisible force Kevin gets up and steps close to his partner. He slings his arms around the other man, drawing him in close, and looks straight ahead into the mirror. 

Starting in surprise Connor drops his hands almost immediately, allowing their gazes to meet. 

‘Are you okay, Connor? Like… okay with this?’ 

He hooks his hand into Connor’s jeans, feeling the warmth of his skin.

‘Yeah.’ 

It comes far too fast; Kevin doesn’t even get to finish his sentence. 

In response he raises his eyebrow. It says more than enough, theoretically, but Kevin can’t hold back a quip. 

‘That did not sound convincing.’ 

Connor rolls his eyes. At the same time, Kevin can feel him nestling into the embrace. 

‘What’s bothering you, hm?’ 

Well, this certainly is a dejavu.

‘I think it’s… I’m still getting used to this, I think. Not wearing garments, and all. Showing off underwear without planning it.’

’Okay.’ 

‘And I’m jealous that you apparently ditched them so easily and I - the one who wears very unattractive, uncomfortable thongs nearly every day and has been doing so for years - have such stupid hangups about it.’ 

‘How do you know I ditched them? You always went to bed earlier this week, so, you know… I might be having the same problems.’ 

Connor gets even redder and averts his eyes, focusing on some point or the other away from Kevin. 

‘I may have gotten a peek when you were changing before going to sleep. You know, because you’re not always as quiet as you think, and you woke me up.’ 

He squints and smiles, and Kevin squeezes him that bit tighter before pressing a kiss to a freckled shoulder. 

‘You got me there, cheeky,’ he says. Heat rises in Kevin’s belly. The idea of Connor secretly checking him out has something rather exciting to it. 

‘But hey, if you don’t mind me asking - what is it that’s making you so, I don’t know, self-conscious?’

Silence falls. Connor chews his lip, like he always does when he’s thinking about something. At the same time Kevin busies himself by taking a closer look at the man in front of him. More precisely at his skin, resembling an inverted, starry midnight sky. Tan stars dance against the milk-white background of Connor’s arms and shoulders, fading out gradually through the areas rarely touched by the sun. 

It’s a comfortable silence. Familiar. Homey. He’s counted these freckles a few times, probably a few hundred by now, and yet there’s always someting new. Constellations, almost - like a cluster behind Connor’s left ear, a almost-heart shaped one between his shoulder blades, or the ring of freckles around his right nipple. That one’s so random, Kevin thinks, but according to the redhead it has always been there. It’s also kind of cute, and Kevin definitely lavished it with attention in the past. 

‘We should get you more sun,’ Price murmurs absentmindedly, splaying his fingers over Connor’s belly. 

‘More sun means more super cute freckles I can count and wish on.’

‘If you pay any and all doctor’s bills if I develop skin cancer,’ the other man says, leaning his head back a little. Kevin immediately takes the chance to press a kiss on a proffered cheek.

‘And if you really want to deal with a grumpy, sunburnt Connor.’ 

‘Well, if he’s anything like hungry-grumpy or tired-hungry you, I’ll manage. Plus you forget, I’ve seen you with sunburn.’ 

‘No. You’ve seen Elder McKinley with sunburn,’ Connor shoots back, then sighs. 

‘It’s so hard getting used to these. It’s frustrating. 

‘I didn’t even wear garments for much before our mission - as I said, Mormon timetable, and here I am, freaking out because I’m not used to how something looks on me.’

‘That’s okay, we all need adjustment at times.’

‘I’m scared you’ll think I look ridiculous. Or like a slut.’ 

Despite having heard that one once before, it still comes as a surprise. Kevin still doesn’t see how he could think of Connor like this in any way that’s not mutually consensual and fun. 

Instead of saying it, he opts for a far more diplomatic and reassuring comment. 

‘And yet I still won’t.’ 

Connor looks at him once more. Then, with another quiet sigh, he wordlessly drops his jeans and gingerly steps out of them. 

‘They make my legs look weird, too.’ 

Kevin could not agree less. From where he stands, figuratively speaking, he is confronted with 6 foot-and-however-many-inches of his rather attractive boyfriend, dressed in nothing more than a pair of short black trunks with a rainbow waistband. 

‘I disagree,’ Kevin says. He suddenly has to swallow against a dry throat.

‘You’re _hot_. Not that you’re normally not, but Connor… these look so good.’

‘I look like a stork.’ 

‘You do not,’ Kevin says, gently pinching the other man just above the waistband. His complaint about the area bruising goes uncommented - Kevin is focusing on other things. 

‘You do not look like a stork,’ he repeats. 

‘Stork legs are… weird. Yours are just long and toned, quite muscular actually, and pretty amazing for reasons I won’t go into because we apparently don’t have time for that. 

‘But essentially, you’re wearing booty shorts, and we both know you look hella good in the booty shorts you sometimes wear for ballet.’ 

Another eyeroll, this time slower, and Connor turns around in Kevin’s arms. Which reveals a completely new side, in a way, and Kevin files the image away for eventual bad times. 

‘You only think of my butt.’ 

Kevin doesn’t get to defend himself. There are lips on his, and a rather insistent redhead in his arms, so instead of objecting to objectifying his partner he allows himself to get lost in it all for a minute or two. When he slowly pulls back it’s far too soon, but they have plans. 

‘Come on,’ he says. 

‘The Great Coment won’t wait with falling from the sky, it’ll do that no matter if we’re there or not.’ 

In one surprisingly fluid movement Kevin grabs his outfit and makes for the bathroom, to dress and fix his hair in one go. The latter always takes some extra time, and Kevin would rather have as much opportunity to get it to behave as possible. Especially after Connor’s fingers messed with it. He is very thorough. 

From the bedroom he can hear Connor humming along. Kevin doesn’t recognize the song. It’s probably some showtune he has not yet been introduced to, but it’s nice and upbeat. The young man even catches sight of himself wriggling along a bit, in nothing more than his underwear in the mirror. 

And suddenly Kevin has an idea. Balancing on their tub he takes a picture of himself - or rather, his torso and the grey-and-blue brief he’s wearing - and sends it off. 

The ping from the bedroom is stage number one. The following squeal stage number two. 

And then there is Connor, in his half-dressed glory, in the doorframe, staring at Kevin. 

‘Like what you see?’ 

It takes a shocking amount of confidence, but Kevin taps into the bit of him that’s holding on to Elder Price’s abundance of it. It works. 

‘I’d like it much better if I wasn’t terrified of you cracking your head open on the bathtub, because your balance really isn’t that great,’ comes the distracted reply. 

‘Those look so good though.’ 

‘Do they? Because I put them on this morning and by lunchtime thought everyone could see everything, and that I look like a granddad.’ 

‘Are you insane? You look so good!’ 

‘Thank you. And so do you!’ 

Something in Connor changes, and it’s not just because he’s crossing his arms. 

‘Is this you fishing for compliments?’ 

Kevin hops from the tub. For a brief, terrifying second he feels like he actually slipped, and like all of Connor’s catastrophic scenarios will come true. Across from him, the redhead visibly flinches and moves to cover his eyes. 

‘No, it’s not,’ the former missionary says, pretending to not hear the relieved sigh when he lands upright. 

‘I wanted to show you that it’s okay to feel odd, or like you look weird. I promise you don’t.’ 

He takes in Connor’s state and chuckles. 

‘How are you not even dressed yet? I’ve been spending far too much time on my hair and I was worried you’d be bored.’ 

‘I’ve changed my decision three times,’ Connor says, and vanishes with a faint ’Don’t judge me!’ 

He’s wearing those jeans again, and they’re still as distracting. 

Kevin shakes his head and dresses himself, listening to the humming starting up again. 

When he steps into the room five minutes later, Connor is standing in front of the mirror once more in deep concentration. At first Kevin doesn’t quite see why, until he makes out nimble fingers tying a bowtie. 

But even once that’s done the expression stays, as Connor musters himself with a critical eye. 

Kevin sidles up to the other man, gently bumping his shoulder. 

‘What’s got you looking all critical at yourself?’ 

’Still the same.’ 

‘Wait, this is still about underwear?’

‘Kinda.’ 

‘But you can’t see it…?’ 

At that Connor bumps him back, with a little laugh. 

‘I know, you dork.’ 

A pause, then: 

‘Kevin… do I look gay in this? You know, camp-cliche-stereotypical gay.’ 

Ah. So that was it was all most likely about - Connor’s incessant fear, instilled by everything his parents said and did to him since he came out (twice!), of appearing too gay. 

Stumped by the question, Kevin takes a step back and looks Connor up and down. Black skinny jeans. A white button down with a pink flamingo print pattern, the individual birds small enough that you have to take a close look if you want to make out that they’re not just dots. A black bow tie. A shock of bright red hair and very blue, very expectant eyes. 

And yes, maybe he is a bit camp at times. He’s certainly too well dressed for the stereotypical straight man, and he definitely likes showtunes and is a very close friend of Dorothy’s. 

Still, does Connor look gay?

Instead of answering right away Kevin leans in for another kiss. 

‘That was not an answer,’ Connor says jokingly, but there’s a hint of worry in his voice. 

Kevin chuckles before reaching over and taking the other man’s hand, linking their fingers and throwing Connor a smug smile before looking at the two of them in the mirror. 

‘Now you do.’

**Author's Note:**

> Right. So. I really don't know where I stand on this one. I've been thinking about posting it for a good two weeks, and now I just thought I'd go for it. 
> 
> It is pretty much all self-indulgent. I needed something to cheer me up, and these two dorks being dorky... worked, in a way.
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoyed it - if you did, I would very, very much appreciate comments or kudos. :) They always make my day!


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